Dangerous Games
by sweetsnake
Summary: Voldemort is tired of waiting and decides a more direct attack on the school will serve his purpose. Harry is thrust into Snapes care, will the two bitter enemies learn to rely on each other? Set in Harry's sixth year, a Snape mentors Harry fic.
1. The Request

**Hey guys, I know I havn't written a story in a while but because Severus tickles me, I've decided to write a Snape mentors Harry fic. I know there are a million of these types but I couldn't resist writing one myself. I hope you enjoy, updates will follow hopefully within a short time frame!**

Deep in the dark tunnels and corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a lone figure sat in a stiffed backed chair, head rested against its rough backing. Severus Snape poured himself another round of fire whiskey and swirled it around in his glass mercilessly, dark eyes trained on nothing in particular. His tall frame, not far from slumping into the chair, trembled gently.

The dungeons seemed unusually cold and dreary, but it wasn't this that had the potions master so deep in thought. It was the first night of term. A very bad sign, indeed. Snape continued the merciless and unrelenting twirl of his drink between pale, nimble fingers and fought the urge to fidget in his seat, his injuries worse than he had initially thought.

He was quite alone, no need to be self-conscious and yet, for all it was worth, he couldn't bring himself to relax.

It was the boy's sixth year; Potter was finally only two short years away from leaving him in peace.

And why, pray tell, was he wasting a perfectly good evening on thoughts that revolved around the arrogant, pathetic and insolent excuse of a child? Because he must. The Dark Lord was finally growing tired of waiting, impatient with his servants failures and predictably his own frustration on having lost his chance, once again, to capture the damn boy.

Snape snorted silently to himself, immersed deeply in his own thoughts, barely even registering the shaking of his hands as the cruciatus curse left him, once again, with the inability to rid himself completely of its after effects. That night, he had been injured minimally, a few deep cuts, bruising, a broken rib and three rounds of the cruciatus. However, this treatment was nothing, nothing compared to what was in store for the dour man if he dared disobey his _master_ once more. The Dark Lord wanted the boy. He wanted him immediately and with a sick passion that turned the potions master's insides to ice. There was going to be hell, come the next day at Hogwarts, and Snape had just finished informing the Headmaster. Action would be required immediately, especially, though he loathed admitting it, with the Potter boy.

"Severus?" Came the soft inquiry of said Headmaster. The breach in his silent musings startled Snape, but he made no outward show of his uneasiness or fright.

"Yes, Albus?" Snape quipped as he finally settled his drink aside, having no more desire to consume its harsh contents that tampered with his mind, especially in its brooding state. With a whirl of green flame, Albus came through the floo and sat himself, unrequested, into a small black chair directly in front of his staff member. Snape stiffened as the Headmasters piercing blue gaze settled on his shaking hands. Damn the cruciatus curse and its user! Casting a malevolent glare at his mentor, he crossed his arms over his chest, effectively cutting his shaking hands from view.

"Severus," Albus said quietly, his eyes pleading forgiveness.

"What is it Albus?" Snape asked curtly with a small sneer, he was in no mood to be tampered with. He only wished to go to bed and forget all the horrors and the knowledge of the impending attack that he'd dealt with that evening.

"I do appolog-"

"Don't!" Snape cut him off, his temper only on the rise. "Your useless apologies do nothing but aggravate me, as you know. Please refrain yourself. Let us talk of business so I may have my rest." The comment was attached with a scowl that only deepened as the Headmaster sighed heavily, his old frame sinking into the chair.

"Are you so sure, my boy?" He inquired softly, knowing Snape would understand what he was referring to and also realizing how this particular statement would be met.

"No, I simply enjoy the pain and torture the Dark Lord inflicts upon me to such an extent, that I have simply forgotten half of the information and therefore relay only what I can remember. I do apologize for my carelessness, Albus; I shall be more inclined to listen more carefully the next time." Snape's words were laced so thick with sarcasm; the Headmaster feared he may be able to walk on it. Cold, black eyes bore into his own with such intensity that Albus was forced to accept what he wished so dearly to forget.

"He will act tomorrow? You are positive, Severus?" Albus asked once again, rubbing his eyes tiredly while the potions master scowled blackly at the elder man.

"Of course I am positive! When has my information ever led you astray? Do tell, Albus, because I fail to see your incomprehension of the subject." Snape was soon on his feet, his anger pulling reign on his conflicted and weary consciousness. "The Dark Lord acts tomorrow night, no one is safe, and Potter will be in need of more supervision than what he has been provided with." Albus watched Snape's small outburst with concern, the twinkle usually adorning his eyes a little bleak and buried.

"Severus, do sit down, you're working yourself up more than your body will accept." He watched with worried eyes as Snape's entire frame shook with tremors, not of anger but of pain.

"Have you been to see Poppy?" Albus asked, as his young teacher finally sat back stiffly into his chair.

"There is no need." Snape waved his hand in dismissal. He could take care of his own wounds. He'd already healed most of them and drank potions for those in need of more aid than his wand could provide. The only thing he would need to wait out were the effects of the cruciatus curse and the broken rib that was slowly mending as he conversed with the Headmaster.

"We need to evacuate the students at once," Snape began, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. All he really wanted to do was sleep, sleep and forget the whole ordeal.

"It cannot be done," Albus said quietly, his eyes weary as he took in Snape's hostile expression.

"What are you saying, old man?" The term wasn't meant as an insult, for he used it often, but in this instant, he almost used it as such. The darker man possessed a bottomless pit of anger. It never seemed to end, a place where he could shove and push all his pain and rage into, so that it filled his chest with a fiery warmth, fuelling his glares and heating his voice.

"The ministry will not allow it. Severus, please believe me, I would do it now if I could." Snape hissed, his anger forcing his knuckles to whiten where they sat curled against the armrest of his chair.

"Albus, We. Must. Evacuate. This. _Minute_!" he said harshly, his words lashing out into the cold atmosphere.

"My boy, I will set up the plans, we will get the children out, but not tonight, the ministry will not allow it."

"And the boy?"

"Harry will need added supervision and an escort if things go horribly wrong. The blood wards at his Aunt's and Uncle's should protect him when the need arises. But until then, I am in need of someone to watch his every move and be there for him when the time is right." Albus stared levelly at Snape' stony face, knowing full well what his young teacher's reaction would be.

"Do not look at me like that, Albus. I watch the damned boy every second of every day while he is at Hogwarts, I cannot even believe I baby sit the idiot child as much as it is, I refuse to be his personal chaperone!" Snape scowled crossly. The nerve of the man! He had no right, no right to ask him such a thing!

"Stop scowling, Severus, or your face will never revert back," Albus admonished lightly and smiled gently at Snape's risen eyebrow.

"Do not berate me, Albus, I am _not_ a child, and nor am I taking care of the infuriating brat." Snape stared stonily at Albus who sat calmly across from him, eyes twinkling merrily and fingers stippled in front of him.

"Ah, but you are still so young Severus, so young and full of such potential …" he let himself trail away, looked back at Snape' blank face, and felt horribly guilty. Guilty for allowing the young man to present himself in front of Voldemort time and time again, risking his life when he could be out finding cures for various diseases or medical issues, furthering potions knowledge exponentially.

Snape watched as emotions danced in front of the Headmaster's eyes, guilt, regret, shame and finally, disappointment. He knew exactly where his train of thought had led to and he knew he must stop it.

"Albus, I have chosen my path, as you have chosen yours. My job lies within the ranks of the Death Eaters and yours with politics, it's what we have chosen and I will not have it any other way," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. He knew he was lying but was so good at it, that it fell from his lips naturally. Somewhere deep and dark in his heart, he knew he never wanted to return to Voldemort, he wanted to quit, sometimes he'd rather die while admits some of the more horrific and painful tortures… but held strong. He had a cause and he would stick to it.

Albus sighed wearily, his age catching up to him as deep lines creased his face. "My boy, I _must_ ask this of you. You know of its urgency and I do not need to stress the fact that Harry needs the best supervision I can supply him. As you know- no, Severus, let me finish- this event could lead to his untimely demise and I need you, Severus, to hold him strong, aid him in his training while there is a lack of it here."

"Why can you not ask Minerva or—"

"Severus," Albus reprimanded softly, much to the other man's irritation "I would trust no other, as I trust you. You're knowledge and skill are not contestable and although I am completely aware of you aversion to the boy—" Snape snorted. "I am convinced you will make the right decision and take upon another burden it seems I am to place upon your shoulders." The silence was tense and the air crackled with Snape's repressed rage.

"You insufferable man," Snape snarled and snapped to his feet, pacing while tremors continued to wrack assault on his body. Albus waited patiently, his eyes distant and calculating as he observed the younger man's behaviour. The man was difficult to get to and he hoped, with all his heart, that he would make the right decision. Harry needed him, whether the boy acknowledged it himself or not.

"And what would you have me do, Albus? Take the boy back home where I am to complete his training in Petunia's garden? Or, have him, Merlin forbid, take residence in my Manor while I await to be called away to the Dark Lord and suffer his wrath? Hmm?" Snape's tone was bleak and his eyes cold and distant.

"Harry must return home for at least a day or two, I trust his surrogate family will have no objections, but after, my boy, I am not quite so sure. These things require planning and fine detailing." Snape snorted, his lip curling in disdain.

"I cannot do this, Albus, we are too different, it will never work."

"Oh, Severus, if you'd only let down your guard you will find Harry to be a remarkable person and—"

"Yes, yes, Albus," Snape waved a hand in dismissal and impatience, "I have heard it all before and yet I remain unconvinced. If the boy were so great he would not be in this predicament for the Dark Lord would have been defeated by now."

"Ah, but don't you see, my boy? With your aid and skill, Harry will be much more… fit and mentally prepared to deal with his destiny, would you deny him such a thing Severus? Would you truly deny the child a chance of survival? Of defeating that in which he—"

"Enough, enough! You meddlesome old fool." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and repressed the sudden threat of a migraine, collapsing into his chair, exhausted. "Never have I met anyone so tiresome." Albus sighed in quiet relief and Snape had the sneaky suspicion he'd only done it for his benefit. He fought the urge to sneer, as if the headmaster's peace of mind meant that much to him.

"Get some well deserved rest, Severus; we will deal with whatever comes our way tomorrow." He stood abruptly, and cast one last concerned glance at his young teacher before turning towards the still burning fire. Snape sunk lower into his chair, exhaustion sweeping over him, his aches and pains getting the best of him. He drew his face carefully into his hands and wracked thin, pale fingers through his hair, tiredness evident among his features.

"What would you have me do, Albus?" He asked in defeat, a look of pain crossing his features, a sigh escaping his tired lips. Albus paused; his back turned on the younger man and spoke without a glance backward. "Stay alive, my dear boy. Stay alive and keep Harry safe." With that last cryptic remark, the Headmaster disappeared in a flurry of green flame and Snape was left to his lonesome.

Snape's figure trembled as he let out a heaving sigh, bowing his back until his face rested buried in his hands. If he were willing to be honest with himself, which he wasn't entirely sure about, he would admit that he would want to take the boy, if only to make sure he stayed alive. He did not trust his other staff members to make sure the boy's idiotic behaviour didn't result in his death, no, they would smother the boy and bow to his every whim. Even if the arrogant spawn of Potter would undoubtedly cause many headaches and frustrations, even most likely cause Snape's own death, he knew he must take the boy. Albus was right, he would surely parish with any other and, loath as he was to admit it, he knew the boy would be safest in his care.

Snape snorted to himself, cursed Potters entire bloodline and one Albus Dumbledore. Shutting his eyes, much too tired to make it to his rooms, Snape accepted that he would not make it to his bed and fell into a nightmare filled and far from restful sleep.

Tomorrow, the second day of term, was going to be the most dangerous and pivotal point in his spying career, let alone his own life.

**A-N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed, if you liked it I'd love to hear from you, the lord knows I need the encouragement, thanks again. Please leave a review!**


	2. Nightmares

**Hey guys, chapter two is up and the plot is slowly developing. However, there are a couple of things I feel I need to clear up. Harry is in his sixth year and my story does not correspond exactly with the books. Harry has spent his summer with the Dursley's and not with Ron at the Burrow. Dumbledore did not try on the cursed ring and therefore, is not injured and Professor Slughorn will be showing up in later chapters to fill in for Professor Snape while he is away with Harry. All cleared up? I hope so. Enjoy...**

Harry awoke suddenly, a scream stuck in his throat and sweat beading along his forehead. Adrenaline pumped through his body, fierce and fiery, forcing his heart to beat frantically against his rib cage.

"Harry! Harry!" Someone shook him, even tapped his cheek with enough force to sting. His eyes were wide; he could feel the skin around them stretched tight as he looked around frantically. God, something was wrong, something was going to happen, but in his panic, he couldn't remember what it was.

"Harry, what's going on? Are you alright?" He finally recognized Ron's voice and the familiar grip in which he held the collar of his pyjamas. He tried so swallow his panic and brushed Ron off, there wasn't time, no time, something was going to happen.

"Ron, I-I need to find a teacher, need to tell them, tell them…" What was it? What was he supposed to tell them? God, no, what a time to forget something so important!

"Harry, calm down, mate, you're making no sense."

"No. Ron, listen to me!" Harry sat up abruptly, pushing past Ron and grabbing his glasses. "Something's changed, a change of plan… I-I can't remember, no, it's going to happen here, I think." He shook his head repeatedly, untidy black hair swinging in front of his eyes. At the pained look on his friend's face, Ron quickly threw on his robe and dashed for the door with a chorus of, "Be right back," before he ran down the staircase.

Harry clutched his bed sheets tight in his hands until his knuckles whitened. He groaned quietly and, as the adrenaline started to fade, he began to realize just how much his scar hurt. It burned with a prickling ferocity that left a throbbing ache in his head. Why couldn't he remember? It seemed that every time he tried to recall the dream it faded farther into his buried memories so that he could barely recall pieces of conversations and fuzzy scenarios. He waited in the silence of his dorm room for Ron to return, his roommates stared at him quizzically, albeit a little frightened, but made no move to comfort him. The only other person in the room who seemed even remotely to care was Neville. He sat upon his bed and stared at Harry, indecision clearly written on his face. He seemed confused, but not in the way the other boys did. He knew Neville was only conflicted because he wanted to help, but was concerned of Harry's reaction.

Harry could only blame himself, for he would yell or snap at anyone who tried comforting him after such dreams. Finally, after what seemed to take hours but were really only minutes, the door opened once again to admit a disgruntled looking and sleep ridden Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter? What is it?" She asked briskly, her face wiped clean of any weariness as she took in the boy's pale face, the dark circles under his eyes and his fidgeting hands. "Should I call upon Al- the Headmaster?" She inquired briefly before strutting over to the boy's side, noticing only now, how he jumped and twitched continuously.

"I-I don't know, Professor." Harry mentally cursed himself for sounding like such a child but it couldn't be avoided, his memory simply wouldn't allow it.

"Well, whatever has gotten you so worked up, Mr. Potter, seems to be important. You should go see Poppy, she will be able to help—"

"No, Professor, I mean. Sorry, I just…" He calmed himself, tried to still his trembling fingers and tried again, frustrated at his lack of communication.

"It's quite alright, try again," McGonagall encouraged, her eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown.

"Something's going on with Voldemort; I think the Headmaster should know… I just, can't remember exactly what it is…" he trailed off, realizing how entirely stupid he sounded. He cursed himself again and gritted his teeth. Why was he always so incompetent? God, wouldn't his Uncle laugh now, knowing how utterly ridiculous he sounded?

"I shall fetch the Headmaster, none of you mo—" she was cut off by the sound of Harry's scream. The boy doubled over in pain, cradling his head in his hands and pulled on his hair, eyes tight shut. Snippets of pictures ran before his eyes, Voldemort was cursing a follower, a round circle of Death Eaters advanced through a forest, black cloaks, so many black cloaks and white masks. However, there was a feeling anger mixed with triumph, he felt it tingle along his skin and he knew the anticipation belonged not to his own mind, but one that was much darker.

A hand grabbed his wrist and his mind cleared for a moment, enough for his ears to catch the words of his Professor.

"Go! Fetch Professor Dumbledore, I'll call upon Professor Snape…" His own furious thinking drowned out the sound of her voice. Professor Snape? Why him? What good could the man possibly do in this situation? He didn't have a chance to think long before his mind flooded once again with images and snippets of thoughts that definitely didn't belong to him.

Minerva glanced at her student anxiously and tried her best to comfort him. With one quick flick of her wand, her patronus appeared and she relayed her message. Severus would know what to do, she was sure. If nothing else, the man could bring with him some pain relievers and perhaps help the boy decipher what he was so intent on remembering.

Harry finally slumped against her as she sat next to him on the bed. His breathing was laboured and he shook visibly.

"Why are the images so fuzzy?" Harry asked himself quietly, completely forgetting about everyone else in the room. It just didn't make sense, normally, the visions were accurate and fluent to a point where he believed it to be himself giving out orders or cursing a muggle or follower. These snippets and fuzzy images were nothing like what he normally experienced with Voldemort. It felt as though hours went by and all he could see were flickering pictures, like a high frequency radio, but nothing he could truly make out. To make matters worse, he could hear people in his dorm room, talking about him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He was stuck between his nightmare and his own reality, both of which were fuzzy and incomprehensible.

He took a deep breath to steady himself when a rough hand grabbed his arm and staggered him into a standing position. The fingers curled around his bicep and he winced. Those fingers had grabbed onto a spot his Uncle Vernon had yanked him by just the day before arriving at Hogwarts. So caught up with the pain in his scar, he had momentarily forgotten about the injuries he had sustained during the summer at the hands of his relatives.

"You're hurting him!" He heard Ron yell, obviously back from his little excursion with no Dumbledore in sight, and suddenly his scar felt like it had exploded, his skin stretched tight over his forehead as his scar seared with red-hot pain. Harry screamed, or at least he thought he did and bit his tongue, willing himself not to cry out and the last thing he was aware of was the salty tang of blood in his mouth and a desperate shout of, "Occlumency, Potter!", before his world went black.

\\\

Snape had been sleeping; in fact, he was so tired his mind had finally overcome the nightmares and let him rest. That is, until Minerva's patronus landed itself on his lap. Startled awake, Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it within seconds and the wispy glow of a tabby cat.

"Severus," the mouth pronounced, imitating Minerva's voice with a hint of panic. "Mr. Potter's in need of help, bring any potions you deem necessary to deal with his…visions. We are in the dorm rooms." Groaning in frustration, Severus lifted himself quickly form his chair and winced as his muscles twitched, unhappy to have been frozen in such an awkward position while he slept. Damn Potter! His one good night of rest was going to be ruined!

He quickly stalked over to his potion's cabinet, ignoring the way his eyes tried to droop shut and selected some pain relievers, some dreamless sleep potions and a new variety he had been tampering with, a mind stress reliever. It was like a calming draught but for a weary or over burdened consciousness. And of course, his most expensive potions were to be wasted on the Potter brat, again. The thought was bitter and held no amount of guilt. He didn't especially care for the insufferbale brat's comfort nor his peace of mind.

Snape was relieved to note his shaking had ceased and swept out of the dungeons, he ran pale fingers through his greasy hair and pulled them away, his face souring slightly disgusted. It really didn't matter how much he washed his hair, it never seemed to clean properly. After several minutes of climbing, Snape finally found himself near the highest of towers and pushed open the fat ladies portrait after having repeated the password. Suddenly, he grew faintly anxious as he heard a commotion coming from the top of the stairs. With a scowl placed firmly upon his face, he straightened his robes and hurried up the boy's staircase. Leave it up to Potter to wake the whole bloody castle!

Wrenching the door open, he strode in and took in his surroundings. Minerva had the boy up against her side while the rest of the children stared at Potter, all with pale, slightly panicked expressions.

"Minerva?" He called, his voice ever the epitome of boredom. She turned her head quickly in his direction and he fought the urge not to smirk at her choice of night time attire. She wore a very long flowered robe and her long, silvery gray hair was down in complete disarray.

"Severus, come, come, Mr. Potter isn't even answering me anymore." Her voice shook with tremors of anxiousness but he remained unconvinced at Potter's apparent distress. Probably seeking attention, just like his lousy father. Snape kept his face blank, although he wanted so desperately to sneer; just the thought of James Potter had his teeth gritting.

Minerva watched Snape impatiently as he stared at her, face impassive. His eyes burned black and dark against the paleness of his skin, sunken in their tiredness. She quickly noticed he wasn't wearing his usual black attire, instead, he wore slightly wrinkled Death Eater robes.

"Fall asleep in those, have we?" she quipped, if only to get the man to move. She watched as his lip curled into a usual snarl and thanked the heavens for a reaction.

"For heaven's sake, Severus, I need your help!" She pleaded, all traces of teasing gone. Severus finally focused his eyes on Potter but could only see the back of his head were a black mop of hair sat in a dishevelled mess. He fought the urge to sneer once again as the black mop of hair unnerved him to no end. He walked into the room briskly, the burning of his charcoal eyes the only hint of his irritation, and knelt in front of the boy in question. He stared up into emerald eyes, slightly glazed over and heard the boy murmuring.

"Why is the boy speaking gibberish? Although, I admit it is not unusual for a Potter…" he trailed off and looked up at Minerva, not even successful enough to get a rise out of her.

"He's been saying nonsense ever since I arrived, he speaks rarely in complete sentences and does not respond when asked questions." Minerva sighed, shifted Harry beside her and refocused her attention on Snape.

"Potter!" He attempted, but as Minerva had pointed out, the boy simply did not react. "Has he said anything useful?" Seeing as it was Potter, he doubted it, but he must be sure.

"Yes, he mentioned something about needing to speak with Albus, but couldn't remember exactly what it was that he had to tell him." He glanced her way and his eyes hardened. Blasted boy! Of course, he would be the one to receive an important piece of information just to forget it.

Suddenly, a bounding head of red hair came tumbling into the room, interrupting Snape's reverie, face pale and a little damp.

"Professor Dumbledore isn't here," Ron said, breathing heavily, and paled a considerable amount upon seeing his most hated professor.

"Weasley, I suggest you make yourself useful for once in your miserable life, and explain Potter's theatrics," Snape sneered, his voice holding nothing but contempt that had Ron scurrying to his best friend's side, putting himself a distasteful distance closer to his potions master.

"Uh, he was having a nightmare."

"I thank you, Weasley, for pointing out the obvious," Snape snapped sarcastically, his eyes merciless in their scrutiny. "If you'd use the other half of your apparent lack of sense, perhaps your little friend's condition could be aided and this whole ordeal could be dealt with. Try. Again."

Ron stared at his head of house in disbelief but she only stared at him expectantly. Other than giving his potions master a rebuking glare, she seemed to be in agreement.

"Well, he started screaming, like usual, and uh- he, well, said something about plans changing…" he trailed off, embarrassed at his rambling but his teachers seemed unconvinced.

"Anything else, Mr. Weasley?" Minerva asked him before Snape's sharp tongue could lash out at the boy again.

"He said that whatever's happening, is going to happen here. He said there was a change of plans, or something, and that he had to tell a teacher." Ron fidgeted, his whole frame emanating waves of uneasiness under such scrutiny. "He also said he couldn't remember exactly what was going on," he added as if the more he talked, the faster his teachers would be willing to leave him in peace.

Severus felt himself pale as the dimwitted boy continued his babbling. A change of plans? No, he couldn't possibly mean… He had to contact Albus, or they were going to be in serious trouble. Wait, what had the boy said as he entered? _'Professor Dumbledore isn't here'_, his mind replayed the redhead's entrance repeatedly in his mind, churning it around in his thoughts as if the words would hold new meaning to them if he thought about it long enough. Of course Albus would be missing on such an occasion! Where could he be?

"Enough." He silenced the boy with a wave of his hand. Impatient, he grabbed Harry's upper arm. The boy needed to talk. Harry's rambling suddenly stopped, his eyes cleared for a moment, and Snape pulled the boy roughly to his feet, hoping to break his stupor. What he hadn't expected was the boy to wince horribly, his eyes wide with pain.

"You're hurting him!" Ron yelled and made to leap in between them just as Harry screamed again. His voice echoed, raw and horrific, off the dorm walls and he collapsed against his professor, his eyes screwed shut and his hands clutching desperately at his scar. Suddenly the screaming stopped for several heart stopping moments and Snape watched as the beginnings of blood dripped from the boys closed mouth.

"Occlumency, Potter!" He barked and lifted the boy, but he was limp in his arms.

"He knows..." Was all the boy had time enough to whisper before slumping, a dead weight. Unconscious.

**A-N: Alright, chap two is complete and I'll hopefully have chapter three up either tomorrow or wednesday. Thanks to those who reviewed my last chapter, it was greatly appreciated and I hope to hear from you again! Thanks, Please leave a review, they always help me or at the very least, keep me motviated! Thanks again!**


	3. A Mocking Smile

**Hey guys, woof, it's finally done! This chapter's a little long but I'm pretty okay with it, the more I develop this story, the more I get excited. lol, enjoy...**

Snape staggered back, a little startled and more than a little unnerved by the contact and dead weight in his arms. What did the boy mean, _he knows_? There really was only one answer to that question but it stuck in Snape's mind, a pressing thought that didn't want to form itself, didn't want to be analyzed.

Minerva quickly saved her poor colleague by lifting Harry off his Professor and laid him down on his own four-poster bed. Snape brushed himself off, none too discreetly, and Minerva gave him a hard glare.

"What?" he snarled at her, his temper and patience being tested as his chest tightened with a flood of panic that he repressed with all his strength.

"The boy isn't infested with dung beetles, there is no need to act as though he is contaminated," she reprimanded, her eyes stern as she looked over her younger co-worker and former student.

"On the contrary, Minerva, he is infested with idiocy, which-" he gave a curt nod in Ron's direction, where the Weasley sat staring at his friend, dumbfounded, "seems to be very contagious."

Minerva snorted, and not in amusement. "If you're quite finished with your nonsense, Severus, we have a sick child that needs attending to." Snape shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Why me?_ He asked the heavens, and as usual, there was no answer.

Suddenly there was a thunderous noise, a rumbling that echoed off every wall and seemed to shake every person to their core.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron blurted, his eyes wide and a little frightened. Everyone in the room ignored him. Snape looked down at the pale and slightly sweating boy lying on his bed. There were only two, now three, people that knew of the impending attack, Minerva wasn't one of them. He glanced at her briefly, noticed her eyes were large, wide open in their sudden uneasiness and knew there wasn't any time to explain.

"Minerva, round up all the houses, get the children—" He was cut off sharply by another crashing noise, this time, it sounded like breaking glass, followed by screaming. The children were screaming… God, help him.

"Severus, I demand you tell me what's going on! Where's Albus?"

"At the ministry, no doubt," he said bitterly but ushered her to her feet just as another unpleasant, thunderous bang shook the castle, pieces of dust and loose rock tumbling from the ceiling and walls.

"Minerva, listen to me!" he barked, successfully gaining the witch's attention through the accumulating dust and shrieks sounding a far distance within the castle. "The wards are being tested, round up the others and get the children into the Great Hall." When her worried gaze landed on Harry, he shook his head roughly, pieces of tangled black hair swinging in front of his eyes. "I will attend to the boy, now go!"

"Boy's!" Minerva called to the few still in the room. "You heard your Professor, into the Great Hall," she said with a stern if not a slightly anxious tone. Minerva turned a watchful eye to Ron as he stayed stubbornly at his best friend's bed while the other boys skittered out of the dorm room.

"No way," Ron said, quickly adding, "Professor." Minerva fixed him with a menacing glare but it did nothing except solidify the redhead's stubbornness.

"We do not have time for you insolent behaviour! Do you wish to see another day of sunlight, or shall I save the Dark Lord the trouble and finish you off myself?"

"Severus!" He whipped around and gave Minerva a hard look, daring her to reprimand him. When she said nothing, he returned his attention to Ron, who shuffled a little nervously under the man's hard stare. "Weasley, leave, or I shall be forced to haul you out by your ears into the Great Hall, and believe me, it shall not be pleasant." Ron glared back, defiant, but wavered under his Potions Professor's intense, scorching gaze. He had time enough to wonder if the man was even allowed to do that until he noticed he was being dragged out the door my Minerva.

"Professor, Harry needs me!" he protested and tried to scurry back into the room before the door slammed itself in his face. He was seething. Stupid git! He was probably going to drag Harry, unconscious, to Voldemort himself.

"Professor, you can't leave Harry in there with _that_!" he raged, his face burning bright red.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Weasley?" Minerva reprimanded her student with a firm hand on his wrist and a disapproving frown lining her brow. Before Ron could even begin to feel ashamed for insulting another teacher in front of his Head of House, the castle gave another rumble and from outside the room, the screaming students only growing louder. Minerva stumbled, her hip and shoulder banging against the wall closest to her and Ron scrambled to help her upright.

"Round up the Gryffindors, Mr. Weasley, I'm putting you in charge. The first years stay with you and Miss Granger; I will meet you in the Great Hall."

"What about Harry?"

"For heaven's sake." She rubbed her temple and finally came to realize Severus' intense dislike of her house's stubbornness. Well, not that the man could complain, he was very stubborn himself. "Mr. Potter, I'm sure, will be fine in Professor Snape's care." Ron grumbled but gave one last, fleeting glance towards the closed door before leaving his Head of House to gather up the students.

----

"_Evigilo_," Snape murmured, frustrated. He had used the gentle waking spell countless times within a span of seconds with tremors and rumbles shaking the castle walls, but Harry never woke. The screams of students pierced through his ears and he gritted his teeth. Why did they all have to scream? The Dark Lord hadn't even gotten through the wards… yet. He leaned on the small bed and it creaked with the added weight. He loomed over the boy and finally tapped his face none too gently. Harry's eyes fluttered and he attempted to brush off the offending hand but Snape was relentless. If the boy wouldn't wake with a gentle spell, he'd try a different type of wake up call.

"Potter!" he spat, his urgency only heightened by the continued shaking of the castle, the screams of students filling the air a new with a sense of danger and fear. Panic shook the Potions Master into action. Albus was missing, the Death Eaters had arrived and the wards wouldn't hold nearly as long if it were only the teachers holding them up. A creeping feeling of dread filled his chest like a cold blanket, and he schooled his features automatically, there was no one around to witness his growing anxiety but years of instinct and practice had him closing down. Unable to wake the child, he leaned in close to his ear and whispered, ever so menacingly, "Damn boy! If you do not wake this minute, Potter, I will send you home to your relatives in a potions vial!"

Harry stirred, his fingers twitching, and heard a voice as if from far away, "…Potter…home to your relatives…" No! It was the first night back! They couldn't, wouldn't send him back…would they?

"No," he whispered, his throat dry and aching.

"No what, Potter?" He heard a sly voice call out to him and instantly tensed, he knew that voice.

"No," he said with a little more conviction and felt his eyelids flutter. Suddenly, he heard a loud rumbling, a sound that sent unpleasant vibrations down into his very core. Something was definitely not right.

"Potter! You must wake up this _instant_!" He winced, the voice was harsh, his head pounded fiercely so that all he wanted to do was roll over and let sleep take him, let the bad dreams slip away…

"…Potter…insolence will not be… _wake up_!" This time he felt a distinct but not too painful sting against his right cheek, startling him away from his cozy unconsciousness.

"Stop slapping me!" he finally snapped, his voice raw from screaming and not as intimidating as he would like it to be. Harry lifted himself up to glare at whoever had been hitting him but felt his glasses shoved against his face a little too roughly. His eyes focused on Snape and he scowled.

"What do _you_ wa—" He was interrupted by another loud rumble and pieces of dust that wafted down from the ceiling and onto his bed sheets. That's when he heard the screaming… people were screaming, no, students. His anger left him in a rush only to be replaced by a sudden fear that spiked down to his toes.

Snape watched as his student finally grasped the situation. "_Move_, Potter, we don't have all night!" Harry stared up at the looming form of his Professor and extracted himself from his sheets. He stood, a little wobbly and his Professor, not that he had expected it, offered him no assistance. Suddenly, his arm was grabbed roughly and he winced, though refused to cry out in front of the man, no, he would never give him the satisfaction.

Snape watched as the boy winced but pretended not to notice, the boy had injured himself showing off, no doubt, or perhaps doing some foolish Gryffindor deed that would win him the affections of all the fools attending the school. Snape snorted to himself and continued to haul the boy quickly down the stairs.

"Let me go!" The boy snarled, his eyes fierce and his hand attempting to pry Snape's iron grip from his arm. Snape was about to lash out at the boy, just as another tremor wracked the castle walls.

Momentarily stunned, Harry stopped trying to pull his Professor off him and simply stared wide eyed and pale faced at the windows as they shook in their frames. His scar stood out in a striking contrast next to his pale and clammy skin. Green eyes flickered from his Potions Master to the shaking walls, and his mind stressed, not comprehending the situation.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, as more terrified squeals met his ears.

"Even if we are admits a crisis, I demand some respect, boy." The _boy_ comment had Harry's teeth set on edge, grinding together painfully. It's what his Uncle called him while not using the term 'freak' and/or 'brat'.

"What in bloody hell is happening, _sir_?"

"Language, Potter."

_Bite me_.

He refrained from making the comment aloud but it still hung in the air, charging the atmosphere with hostility. They had stopped moving and the staircase rumbled along with the castle, jostling the pair about. Harry stared into the cool onyx eyes that relayed nothing other than superiority and such an amount of disgust that he almost looked away, it was difficult looking Snape in the eyes and not cringing. Harry glared back fiercely but his head pounded, making it difficult for him to concentrate. What was going on? He couldn't remember much, only snippets…of…of. _Oh_.

Suddenly he remembered, he remembered his scar, his nightmares…Voldemort. Snape watched with extreme impatience as the boy's eyes widened even further, a sort of knowledge leaking in front of his defiant expression.

"Professor, there's going to be an attack and…" he trailed off, realization dropping on his head like a ton of bricks.

"As much as your inferior intellect and lack of sense amuses me," the man scowled, sounding anything but amused, "we have much more pressing things to attend to, such as your life. Unless you truly do not care for such a thing. If not, than for the love of Merlin, alert me now so that I may drag you out to the Dark Lord myself." Harry scowled back, wasn't that what Snape was planning on doing anyway?

As if picking the comment from Harry's mind -- which was a very large possibility-- Snape growled, low and deep in his throat. Harry suddenly felt a wash of guilt that made him squirm, seeing as the man's position in the war was finally revealed, he didn't really have a right to throw stones anymore.

"Where's your wand, Potter?" he snapped, rubbing his temple as more rumbling shook the stairwell they were standing on.

"Uh, in my trunk?"

"Then go get it, stupid boy! What in the world were you intending to do without a wand? Especially if you believed myself to be taking you to the Dark Lord?" Snape watched as Harry scampered up the stairs, leaned against the wall and groaned into his hands, face buried. He knew he wasn't exactly being reasonable, for he had dragged the boy out before he could even walk, but didn't dwell too much on the thought. He tapped his foot methodically as the staircase underneath him rumbled, sending more dust and small rocks clattering about.

Harry scampered into his room, face flushed bright red. The man was so unfair! And cruel, he added as an afterthought. He was truly the only person in the entire world he could easily say he hated, other than Voldemort, of course… and maybe Wormtail… and Malfoy. Okay, so there were a lot of people he hated at the moment, but his Potions Professor wasn't far from the top.

He flung his belongings around, in search of his wand and finally found it buried in one of his cousin's old and worn out T-shirt sleeves. Turning around, he was about to scamper back out the door when he stopped, spying a piece of old cloth against a stool in the corner of the room.

Grabbing his invisibility cloak, Harry finally made it back to the door and headed down the spiral staircase where he knew waited an impatient, most likely irritated and very nasty Potions teacher. Harry took a moment to be properly embarrassed about his pyjamas but cast the thought aside. Being seen in front of Snape with his pyjamas on was not the worst or the most embarrassing things to have ever happen to him in the man's presence. Upon seeing said teacher, Harry winced, remembering his disastrous Occlumency lessons only the year before, where he'd looked into the man's pensive without an invitation.

Snape watched as Harry descended the staircase, a little flushed and breathy. He noted dully the cloak, crooked into the boy's left arm and nodded, apparently the child had some sense after all. He mentally snorted.

Harry's heart beat ever faster as numerous screams sounded off in the distance. Was Voldemort already here? Could he be tearing the castle away part by part as he, Harry, stood in the staircase and worried about being seen in his pyjamas? No, if Voldemort was here, than he would fight, like all the others were bound to do that night. He straightened his chin, squared his shoulders and drew his wand, it was time for action.

"Potter, once again your ridiculous mind baffles me. I-"

"Well, maybe if you'd stop _mind raping_ me, you wouldn't have to worry about baffling yourself, _sir_." Harry felt his cheeks rise with anger, Voldemort was probably outside tearing Hogwarts to pieces and all Snape could do was insult him.

"Excuse me?" Snape's voice was quiet, deathly. The man's eyes narrowed into black slits, his face hardening and Harry feared for a moment he would be quite dead before he even got near the main part of the castle. _This must be what he looks like in Death Eater mode._ Harry thought as he backed up a step.

"If you had half an ounce of brain matter, Potter, and had actually mastered Occlumency while given the chance, I would not be able to _mind rape_ you, as you so eloquently put it," Snape sneered, his lip curling, turning that sneer into a full-blown snarl. Harry gathered some of his Gryffindor courage and, instead of cowering away like he so desperately wished to, attempted a snarl of his own.

"Severus!" The cry echoed off the walls of the common room and reverberated into the stairwell where Snape and Harry were facing off. Momentarily startled, Harry's face relaxed into an unguarded curiosity if not edged with a little apprehension.

Snape's lip curled in irritation as the boy's face openenly displayed his emotions. An open book, easy to manipulate and decipher.

"Let us go, Potter, before Minerva is swarmed with Death Eaters, Hmm?" Harry tore his eyes from his Potions Master, his previous anger forgotten only to be replaced with a sudden need for action.

"Professor McGonagall's in trouble?" Harry asked, his voice wavering slightly but held strong, he was pleased to note.

"Move, Potter!" Impatient, Snape grabbed the edge of Harry's sleeve and hauled him the rest of the way down the staircase. Finally making it into the Gryffindor common room, Harry finally realized it was empty. Where were Ron and Hermione? All the students, teachers?

"Professor, where is everyone?" Harry asked while being pulled out into Hogwarts' corridors by his sleeve. Snape didn't even glance back at him. Being outside of the Gryffindor common room, Harry noticed that the thunderous noises, the rumbling and screaming were louder, much louder.

Snape let go of his sleeve and started at a heavy trot down the corridor. Harry struggled to keep up, running to match his Professor's heavy jog. He had never actually seen his Professor run before; it was quite an interesting sight. His long, greasy hair bounced against his shoulders as he jogged, his form ever as graceful as when he glided and Harry felt slightly envious. His Professor's steady beat and graceful movement baffled Harry, especially when he compared it to his own clumsy and awkward manoeuvring.

"Keep up, Potter," Snape threw over his shoulder, his voice harsh over the terrified squeals and screeches of various students. Harry hurried alongside him and held his wand in a firm grip, his hands a little damp with worry but strong as he anticipated the battle to come.

Finally, after what seemed to take forever, they reached the Great Hall and Harry was temporarily overwhelmed by the sight of student upon student from every year and house gathered in a tight huddle against one another. The teachers formed a tight circle around the students, their wands raised.

"Hold the wards!" He heard Snape shout from beside him, the man's overpowering voice echoed off the walls and only fuelled the other teachers' determination. Harry watched in utter fascination as Snape lifted his wand, power pulsing from the man in waves. Harry shivered; magic trickled along his skin and a sense of warmth filled him, power stealing the breath away from his lungs.

"Wow," he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from the power circle his teachers had created. But there seemed to be someone missing, where was Dumbledore? Shouldn't he be the one in the center, giving the power new meaning and command? Harry's small moment of appreciation, however, was cut short by another rumble. The castle walls shook relentlessly, larger pieces of rock and dust falling from the ceiling only to tumble on the huddled students. Girls started screaming again, younger children gripping their older siblings or friends.

"I have sent for Albus, Severus, we cannot keep this up all night, take Mr. Potter and go!" Minerva shouted over the squealing girls and loud, thunderous banging.

"What?" Harry blurted, staring at his Head of House in disbelief. No, he was going to fight, wasn't he? He was going to defend the castle or die trying, like his teachers and some classmates were sure to do. Snape nodded and Harry, in complete and utter disbelief, blanched.

"No! They need my hel-"

"No, they do not." Snape cut across him smoothly. "Your _arrogance_ will only serve to be your downfall, Potter, your help is unwanted and unneeded." He grabbed Harry's upper arm and began dragging him away, just as two sixteen year old children burst their way out of the crowd.

"Harry!" They both cried at once, relieved at seeing their friend up and about. Harry fought off his teacher's grip and made a step towards Ron and Hermione.

"If you dare even take another step, Potter, I shall hex you and drag your body out. You are not staying, whether you agree to do so willingly or not." The malice in Snape's voice didn't startle Harry, he was so used to it, what did stop him though, was the note of desperation.

"I can't leave my friends…" Harry said uncertainly, gazing back longingly at the group of huddled teenagers.

"Believe me, Mr. Potter, they are much safer here then you are about to be." Harry bit his lip, what did he mean, _then you are about to be_? Realization dawned on him, he was about to try and escape the castle, wouldn't it make sense that once they realized he was no longer inside, then they would leave Hogwarts alone? Squaring his jaw with determination he turned back to look at his Professor and realized for the first time that he, in fact, was supposed to trust the man with his life. Could he do that? Could he trust him after everything he'd said to him, after everything with…with Sirius? He stared into hard, cold, glittering black eyes and nodded stiffly. It didn't look like he had much of a choice in the matter.

Snape sighed in irritated relief, knowing full well the only reason the boy was accepting to leave was for a foolishly courageous, and disgustingly Gryffindor reason.

"Then let us hurry, if you don't mind, Potter, unless you'd like to invite the Dark Lord in for tea?" Harry ignored the dour man beside him and turned from his friends, an apologetic smile on his face and concern in his eyes. The pair nodded and he finally turned his back on them only to notice his Professor, once again, jogging down the corridor and a great distance away from him.

"Hey, wait up, Professor!" Harry called and ran up alongside him. Harry finally managed to match a pace with his Professor as they ran down the corridors, down towards the dungeons and finally, into Snape's classroom.

Snape looked behind him, satisfied that Harry was keeping up, and slowed his jog to a brisk walk. He felt Harry watching him like a hawk, but chose to ignore the boy; there would always be time to reprimand him later. He carefully opened the door to his classroom and ushered the boy inside, closing it firmly behind him. The boy stood uneasily in the middle of the classroom, eying Snape carefully with curiosity plainly written on his face.

"Why is it that your attention is forever lacking during my Potion's class and yet you seem absolutely besotted with me when learning nothing?" Harry blushed furiously, his knuckles cracking as they gripped his wand tighter. Damn Snape.

"I-, you, I-I'm not _besotted_ with you, sir." Harry spluttered, his face burning ever brighter. Snape smirked but refrained from making any other comment. He needed to evacuate the boy immediately. Snape walked briskly towards his office and wrenched the door open, waving his hand towards the open door. When Harry simply stared at him, apparently at a loss, Snape cursed quietly and rubbed his temples, rolling his eyes skyward.

"Get inside, Potter," Snape said stiffly, ignoring the way Harry shuffled his feet. "Oh, for heaven's sake, boy! If I'd wanted to kill you I'd have done it by now and would hardly do it in my office!"

"That's not it," Harry began but was quick to add a hasty, "sir." at the sour look on his Professor's face. Impatient, Snape grabbed Harry once again and forced him into his office. Harry stumbled, tripping over his own feet and scowled, his embarrassment completely forgotten.

"Will you please stop manhandling me?"

"If you would simply act your age, I would not have to!" Snape snapped, his eyes boring holes in the boy's head. Harry wanted to reply but bit his tongue; after all, he was in Snape's office… alone, and wouldn't put it past his Professor to strangle him while he had the chance.

Thinking along the very same lines, Snape shook his head and tried to relieve himself of such a temptation. He grabbed his desk with one hand and wrenched it away, the wood screeching against the cold tiled floor as he moved it aside. Papers went flying and quills bounced off his desk and onto the floor as he manoeuvred his desk.

"Professor, what are you d—"

"Shut up, boy, can you ever simply listen and follow directives? Must you constantly berate me with pointless questions?" The two men stared at each other, hostility and anger crackling the thin air that separated them.

"_Yes, sir_," Harry finally bit out, his hands shaking at his sides.

"Good." Snape had finally managed to move his desk completely out of the way, he let his mind waste a moment of regret upon seeing his desk and papers in such a disarray but dismissed the thought, beckoning Harry closer. There was a small trap door directly under where Snape's desk had been only moments ago. Pale fingers encircled the small handle and lifted, the trap door eased open and Harry was suddenly hit with the smell of dirt.

"In, Potter." Harry stared at his Professor, eyebrows raised, incredulous. Harry rethought what he was about to say when Snape's fingers twitched, obviously itching to simply push him in and lock the door.

"Why?" Harry asked slowly, a little afraid of his teacher's reaction but unable to grasp the reason for which he would ever consider jumping into the black hole.

"Afraid, Mr. Potter? The fearless and brave, courageous and chivalrous Harry Potter, is afraid of a tunnel? Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Snape sneered and Harry bit his lip, hard. Fine, if Snape wanted him in the hole, he'd go in the damn hole, he didn't have to be such a bastard about it.

Kneeling, Harry slipped his feet in and, after taking a deep breath and catching Snape's eye one last time, he jumped. He fell for several seconds but soon found the bottom were he collapsed unceremoniously against a small blanket of soil and aged dirt. Standing up straight, Harry saw nothing but black. Why had he never seen this place before? It wasn't on the Marauder's map, he'd never suspected there'd be a tunnel under the dungeons.

"Lumos," he whispered and a soft glow of light protruded from his wand, casting the darkness away and encouraging his vision.

"If you are quite done, Potter, then I suggest you get out of the way," Snape's voice flitted into the dark tunnel and Harry briefly considered ignoring him just to be a pain in the ass, but quickly came to the conclusion that Snape would have no qualms of simply jumping down and squashing him. Taking a few steps forward, he waited and sure enough, Snape's dark figure came hurtling towards the ground. Much to Harry's irritation, his Potions Master landed on the bed of dirt but instead of collapsing, he landed on his feet, his knees bending, taking the shock of the drop on his heels. Why did the man have to be so graceful? It was such a piss off.

"Come along, Potter," Snape began and lit his own wand, leading the way. Harry followed a little glumly and a little nervously. His mind began to race, where were the Death Eaters now? Were they still in front of Hogwarts, still throwing spells at the wards and shaking down the castle? Were the teachers holding up, and what about Dumbledore? Had he shown up yet?

"Potter, you are giving me a headache! Please refrain yourself," Snape quipped from in front. Harry watched the bobbing of the man's black hair and billowing robes, confused.

"Stop what, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to keep up.

"Your inane thoughts are so completely _unoccluded_ that you are practically shouting them at me." Oh. Well, that wasn't really his fault, was it? Harry thought with contempt.

"Professor?" Harry asked tentivley after several minutes of walking in complete silence.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape asked in return, turning his head in Harry's direction, raising an eyebrow.

"Why can't we hear the castle or the students anymore?"

"You are underground, Potter." Snape's voice rang with boredom and a hint of condescension.

"Yeah, but we could hear them all the way up in Gryffindor tower, what does it mean that we can't…hear them anymore?" Harry asked, his voice soft. Snape stopped; the movement was so abrupt that Harry collided into him. Wincing, Harry prepared himself for some verbal attacks but was only grabbed and steadied. He looked up at the looming form of his Professor but for once, his black, calculating stare was looking skywards at the dirt ceiling instead of boring holes into his head.

"Professor?" Harry whispered, scared of breaking the man's concentration.

"You can hear them still. If you listen closely," Snape said softly, his eyes a far distance off. Harry watched in fascination as Snape's usually harsh face went neutral in his concentration; the hard lines in his face relaxing, making him seem younger. It was nice to have a reprieve from his usual hateful glare or scowling face.

"Come." And just like that, the impassive mask was back in place, his eyes cold and guarded. Snape pushed Harry along and they hurried this time, jogging lightly, the rest of their trip held out in a tense and awkward silence.

After several minutes of walking, Harry began twisting his fingers together, something didn't feel right, something was a little off place but he couldn't pin point it.

"Stop your fidgeting, boy, and ask your silly questions," the irritable man snapped, impatient and a little weary.

"I thought you hate it when I ask questions." Snape gave him a hard look. "Sir."

"I would rather you rid yourself of such interrogations before they leak all over me." Harry cocked his head in confusion and Snape turned to him, tapping two pale fingers to his temple gently. Oh, well, he'd never really thought of it as, what had he said? Leaking all over him.

"Why doesn't my scar hurt?"

"Does it usually burden you?"

"Well, no, but when stuff like this happens, it normally hurts. Not to mention the visions I was getting were all blurry, they're normally clear." Harry shifted his cloak around in his hands and eventually clasped it around his neck as he continued at a brisk walk beside his teacher.

"I believe the Dark Lord may be shielding from you, Potter. As I do not know the extent of the connection you share with him, I cannot tell you why you were able to catch fragments of his mind at all. It is entirely plausible, that no matter how hard you occlude from one another, that you may not be able to block each other out completely. It is only a theory." Harry's jaw dropped. What did the man mean, unable to block each other out completely? So then, what was the point of Occlumency at all?

"It is only a theory, as I have said," Snape snapped, his patience wearing thin with the boy. Did the child have to take everything so literally?

Harry couldn't believe his teacher was being so open with him, normally, Snape talked in riddles on purpose so that he never got a straight answer. Harry pondered his teacher's honest response to him for quite a while longer before they reached their destination, Snape turning on him, interrupting his musings.

"Do you see the latter, Potter?" Snape asked, waving his wand in the darkness. Harry could make it out and stepped closer, but Snape stopped him, pushing him back with a steady hand.

"I asked if you could _see_ it, Potter, I never asked you to climb it." Harry glanced at his Professor, too tired to be irritated.

"I would never hear the end of it, if I put the Famous Harry Potter in danger." The darker man gave him a sturdy glare then rolled his eyes, turning swiftly towards the end of the tunnel. Harry watched as his Professor climbed the latter. Geez, even the man's _climbing_ was graceful. Scowling up at him, Harry made his way up the latter behind his Professor, hearing the man unlatch the trap door at the top.

"When you get out, Potter, put on your cloak, we will retreat from here."

Suddenly, the body that had been in front of him was gone. Where'd his Professor go? He looked up into the starry sky; letting the cool air waft over his face but felt nothing but panic as fear griped his chest. He froze and listened carefully. People were shouting, no wait, only one person was shouting. Snape.

Two black arms suddenly shot down the hole where Harry sat frozen against the latter. They grabbed him and he fought, tried to get away but hands clutched at him, digging their nails into his arms. Harry screamed and wiggled viciously but was horribly outweighed and quickly brought out of the hole and above ground. Harry fought, struggled, kicked and screamed. His wand was taken from him faster than he could use it but his invisibility cloak remained attached at his shoulders. Finally, he gave up, comprehending the fact that he was not going to escape and looked up. Around him stood a circle of six Death Eaters. One held Snape at wand point, who was still relatively close to him, his black eyes burning with hate. Finally, Harry looked in front of him and felt his stomach sink down to his toes, his head began a minute pounding and he trembled, fear a cold blanket against his lungs, compressing them.

"Hello, Harry Potter, having a pleasant evening?" Voldemort asked, red eyes glowing and mouth twisted in a slight curl, a mocking smile.

**A-N: Alright thanks again to everyone who reviewed my last two chapters, once again, all comments and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. My next chapter might not be up right away because I have to work the next couple of days but hopefully won't take very long! Thanks again, please leave a review! :)**


	4. Frustration

**Hey guys! I know I took a little longer this time, sorry about that, but I'm getting increasingly busy, so I might take longer posting than I would like to. Thanks so much for your patience, I hope you enjoy!**

_Last time:"Hello, Harry Potter, having a pleassant evening?" Voldemort asked, red eyes glowing and mouth twisted in a slight curl, a mocking smile. _

Hands clutched Snape's arms, holding them behind his back, and a wand pointed itself at his neck, held like a knife. When they had taken him from the blasted hole, he had shouted, shouted to the boy as a signal, a sign to run back the way he had come. But of course, the boy being a Potter, he had frozen dumbly and simply allowed himself to be taken. If they got out of this, he was going to strangle the boy.

Harry's eyes flickered between his Potions Master and Voldemort, unsure which was in need of the most attention. Voldemort could kill him quickly, although Harry noticed, throughout the years, that the man seemed to want to monologue first before he made death threats. On the other hand, he wanted to keep an eye on Snape, he wouldn't put it past his Professor to come up with some elaborate escape plan and he, Harry, wouldn't catch it because he was too enthralled with snake man in front of him. No, Snape would _not_ blame this on him… if they escaped.

"Did you really think you could escape me, Harry?" Voldemort asked, tilting his head the way a great snake would regard its pray.

_Well, it seems to have worked fine the last couple of times. _Harry thought to himself but refrained from saying anything aloud. Snape threw him a neutral look but Harry knew the man was subtly thanking him for keeping the comment to himself.

"And you, my _loyal_ servant," Voldemort said in a low hiss that made Harry's skin prickle, turning his attention towards Snape. Harry watched with a growing sense of dread as Voldemort slowly focused his red eyes upon Snape, but the man never flinched. Harry's respect for his Potions Master hiked up a couple of notches as the man stared years of torture and eventual death straight in the face.

"Did you really think you could outsmart me, Severus? Just take the boy out a secret passage and, ah, there we are, safe and sound?" Voldemort laughed, low and deep in his throat, a very unpleasant sound that made Harry squirm against his captor.

"Then why attack Hogwarts at all? Why not capture me at Kings Cross or something?" Harry asked boldly, his blood pulsing with adrenaline and his palms beginning to sweat. He didn't really know why he was asking, he didn't really care, he was just stalling, for what? He wasn't sure.

"Your capture had been arranged, Harry, rest assured of that," Voldemort said quietly, his eyes burning as they met Snape's but still the man remained passive, never flinching. "If you're teacher were competent at all in what I asked, you would have been captured long, long ago." Harry tried to catch Snape's eye but the man refused to look at him, his black eyes were all for Voldemort.

Cold, seeping fear leaked its way into the boy's stomach along with a deep passionate hatred that mixed with the fear, keeping Harry alert and aware but unable to function properly. How many times could he have been potentially kidnapped? If it weren't for Snape, would he be dead already? The fear in his stomach knotted into something frozen and hard.

"So you attack Hogwarts? That doesn't make sense, especially with Dumbledo—"

"Dumbledore is nothing but an old fool!" Voldemort thundered, his eyes in slits of red and his mouth twisted into an ugly scowl. A moment passed of stunned silence before he regained his composer, eyes now burning with a sick passion that was directed towards Harry. "The man is easily fooled, as you have seen tonight, Harry," Voldemort hissed, advancing. Harry squirmed against the hands holding him but succeeded only in bruising his arms.

"Don't touch me!" Harry yelled, his heart speeding, beating frantically against his rib cage. He could taste fear on the tip of his tongue, his own fear like an unpleasant tang that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Voldemort chuckled darkly but otherwise continued as if the boy had never interrupted him.

"You see Harry, what does a snake do when faced with a bundle of delicious mice? What does he do when he finds that one in the crowd that he knows will taste better than all the rest?" Snape was watching Harry now, his eyes hard and glittering. Unable to decipher the look his Professor was giving him, Harry turned his attention back to the man clad in black Death Eater robes.

Voldemort clicked his tongue in disappoint of the boy's obvious lack of response but continued to circle around the boy, reminding Harry more of a hawk than a snake. "The snake must be choosy, Harry, never must he have second best. And so, boy, what is the Snake to do? Attack? Lay low? Make them scurry about?"

Harry's stomach dropped down into his shoes. A creeping feeling of hopelessness filling him.

"Attack?" Harry answered, his voice wavering.

"Of course not, boy! You must make them scurry, chaos, panic, disorder. But then, the snake watches the one it wants, the freshest of the bunch, and when the mouse knows it is caught, then what, Harry?" Voldemort stood in front of the boy, carefully shielding so Harry would know no more of his carefully constructed plans. Although he quite enjoyed the pain he inflicted upon the boy from being so close, he must be cautious, always cautious.

"The mouse runs, separating itself from the group," Harry answered dully, comparing Voldemort's story to the actions of the past few hours.

"And the protection offered within the group," Voldemort finished, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips and an evil glint in his eyes.

"You know what? Snakes are sick bastards," Harry said hotly, his temper rising and his hopelessness making him reckless. Snape shot him a warning glare but he ignored his teacher, if they survived, he could yell at him then.

"Yes, yes they are, but snakes are not the ones who get eaten." Well, the man had a point.

"Now, I trust Dumbledore will return within the hour, and so, let us depart. I have many, many plans for you both." The last was said as a hiss that slithered its way over Harry's skin and he suddenly had an awful urge to look over at Snape, had the man felt it too? As usual, Harry's stare was met with an impassive face, rock hard and impenetrable. What was the man thinking? Was he scared? Was he feeling the despairing grip of failure that Harry felt himself? Did the man _feel _anything?

Harry was shoved hard in the back by a wand, the sharp point aimed at his spine and hitting its mark. The jab was painful but not unbearable. The boy barely managed a small grunt as he was pushed forward again. Harry desperately sought out his Professor as he too, was prodded none too gently in the back. Snape never looked at him, never once turned his eyes to meet the sparkling green orbs that begged for his acknowledgment, some sort of sign. Harry stopped walking, he wasn't going to go quietly, wand pointed at him or not. Harry whirled, a little clumsily and managed to break free of his captore only to be met with a square fist, landing right between his eyes.

"Bloody hell!" Harry yelled and gripped his bleeding nose. Having collapsed to the ground, a strong hand grabbed him and pulled him to his feet roughly so that he staggered before regaining his balance.

"Move!" Bellowed the Death Eater he didn't know. No, he wasn't going to move! Did they actual expect him to go quietly? Did they really expect him not to fight? He tried to turn again but this time his arm was grabbed and twisted behind his back. Harry cried out in pain but still he struggled. No, he wouldn't go, he wouldn't go.

"I'll break your arm, Potter, it wouldn't bother me." This news was not new to Harry.

"Come along, Harry, you will need all your stubborn strength for later, I have much more than a broken arm in mind for you. Besides," Voldemort paused thoughtfully, bringing his fingers up slowly to his nonexistent lips, tasting them gently. "I love to watch you squirm," he said in a deadly whisper, his eyes so full of a controlled rage and sick passion that Harry's insides froze to blocks of ice. Seeing the fear leaking in front of the boy's eyes set Voldemort's insides on fire, the boy was scared, so deliciously scared.

Harry looked desperately at his Professor and if he weren't so proud, would have called out to him in fright. He bore his eyes into Snape's head but the greasy hair only bobbed ahead of him as he walked. _God, look at me, please, please…_

Suddenly, yet slowly, two dark glittering pools of obsidian turned his way, and his mind swam, dizziness overtaking him to a point where his knees buckled and he landed on the ground. He couldn't focus his eyes, couldn't move his legs…

Snape watched as the boy collapsed, unable to move his legs or think properly, and thanked the Lord he was still able to perform that charm without the aid of his wand, it had been years since he had used it last. He made up his mind, they mustn't leave with the Dark Lord, if it killed him, even if it killed the boy, he would try and get them out of the situation. The boy seemed to be their ony diversion.

This was where the Dark Lord would underestimate him, leaving Snape with a gap of opportunity that Voldemort thought he would be too cautious to take. If it had been any other member of the Order, Snape was sure they would never risk Harry's life, but only Snape knew the horrors that awaited them, if they were to die, they might as well do it on their own terms and without the torture.

Confident in his power, Voldemort strode onwards without a backwards glance, probably assuming the boy had collapsed out of fright, his stomach unable to hold up against the knowledge of what awaited him up ahead.

Snape took his chance.

With one quick movement, Snape whirled on the man holding his arm and elbowed him for all he was worth in the eye, not a fatal, but extremely painful spot. The effect was instantaneous, his Death Eater captor howled, relinquishing his grasp on Snape and cradled his bleeding and most likely sunken eye. Snape moved quickly, years of training making him swift, but just as quick as his escape, came the onslaught of hexes and killing curses. He dodged most with all the grace he could muster but was clipped on his side. He felt the slashing curse hit it's mark and slice open his midriff, felt warm blood flowing dangerously fast out of the wound but he ran on towards the boy.

McNair, whom he knew was holding the boy, was too concentrated on beating Harry so he would obey his command and stand, that he was never aware of Snape's foot as it swept behind him and forced them both to the floor. Snape, having missed the curses aimed at his head by making the quick decision to sweep the man's feet from underneath him, saved his life. He quickly grabbed McNair's neck as he fell and with one swift movement, broke his neck. He could hear Voldemort yelling, but only faintly as he focused completely on the advancing Death Eaters that were all scrambling for the boy.

His former associates never learnt. If they were smart enough, they would understand that the largest threat to them was himself and not the boy, but, _of course_: if all else fails, grab the Potter boy. As soon as his hands were free, he grabbed Harry's cloak from around the boy's neck and threw it over him, suddenly camouflaging him from hostile eyes. He knew that moment of protection was going to cost him as a bone-crushing curse was sent his way, hitting his left arm and crashing against his ribs. The sickening crunch and burning agony threaten to engulf him, make him sick, but Snape had made his decision. If he were to die right then, he would make sure Harry either died with him to avoid Voldemort's lair or get him somewhere safe so he may live. Severus Snape was nothing if not determined.

"Don't kill the boy!" Voldemort screamed but it fell on deaf ears as Snape's heart pounded through his head, impairing his hearing, blocking out any other sound or voice.

The action had only started but a couple of seconds prior but he felt as though he had been fighting for his entire life. He was in agony, in pure, raw and defeating agony but he forced himself closer to the boy, and, as if from one of his nightmares, Voldemort stalked towards him slowly, predator like. The man did not run, for he was confident Snape would not be able to escape, especially not with his injuries. Any human would not be able to function from just the blood loss itself, let alone the shock of a broken arm and ribs.

"Accio wand!" Snape cried and a wand that wasn't his, flew into his outstretched hand. Running on pure adrenaline, fear and duty, Snape grabbed were he desperately hoped the boy's arm was, and with all the strength his adrenaline-filled body would allow, he dragged the dead weight up and over his shoulder just as two hands grabbed him from either side.

Making a split second decision, Snape turned on the spot and apparated, taking two Death Eaters along for the ride.

----

Harry's eyes swam, focused in and out and he heard shouts, so many shouts, bright lights flying from every direction. Someone was kicking him, he could feel it in his side but for the life of him... he couldn't move, it was as if he were paralyzed. He could hear continued screams and suddenly, the person kicking him was gone and a sickening crunch sounded off right next to his ear. Something limp landed on him and he desperately hoped it wasn't a body. More screaming and shouting, bright lights and suddenly something was thrown over him and the smell was comforting, it smelt like home. Everything was happening so fast yet he was too disoriented to make sense of any of it.

He was picked up roughly and thrown high up the air, but still he could not move. He smelt spices, fresh herbs and musk, the smell of autumn. He pondered that thought for a minute before feeling as though he were being dragged through metallic tubes that wanted desperately to squeeze the life from him. He couldn't breathe, too tight, too tight…

And the pressure was gone, as fast as it had come, it was gone. He was thrown to the ground and fell like a sack of potatoes, and hit the ground just as hard. Harry had a moment to groan to himself, he was going to have major bruising come morning. There was more noises, people struggling and more colourful lights.

People were fighting.

His drowsiness suddenly began to seep away and Harry blinked rapidly, noticing that his vision was blocked by a veil, no, it was his cloak. The boy twitched his fingers and slowly they became of use, then his torso and finally his legs.

"Give it up, Severus! You can't beat both of us injured." The snide comment slithered through Harry and he immediately recognized the voice. Malfoy.

"Your lacking skill is easy enough to defeat, Malfoy, I would wager I could beat you injured _and_ blindfolded." He heard his Potions Master sneer but the voice was rough, heavy and a little slow.

"Still have something in you, Severus? Come now, old friend, give up now and I shall let you go! Honestly, Severus, is the boy really worth dying for?"

"You would be punished eternally for letting a traitor leave, you know that as well as I, Lucius, why sweet talk me?" Again, Harry noticed his Professor's words were gently slurred. Harry struggled to sit up and was struck suddenly by the sight before him. Bright sparks and loud bangs sounded as the wizards duelled. Harry's awful night vision cleared enough for him to make out Snape, trying very hard to dodge the oncoming slaughter of spells fired off by two men in black cloaks. He knew one was Malfoy, but the other…?

That's when he noticed Snape's slumping, his left side seemed completely broken, his arm and torso slumped as though it were of no more use to him and, although it took Harry several seconds, he noticed something thick dripping from the man's side, spraying the grass around them. The night breeze felt nice against his burning skin but he could not enjoy it as he watched his teacher, gravely injured, fight for his life. He quickly scrambled to his feet just as Snape fell, his feet finally betraying him and sending him sprawling. Grasping the cloak around him firmly, Harry dashed over to Snape, his heart suddenly in his throat. Was he alright? He didn't have time to ponder his sudden fear that Snape may be fatally injured and stopped short as a wand was brandished in front of him, but pointed at his Potions Master.

Malfoy stood above his teacher and from the faint light of the moon, Harry was able to make out Snape's drooping eyes, the corner of his mouth seeping crimson blood, such a stark contrast against his otherwise deathly pale skin.

"Finally run out of juice, eh Severus?" Malfoy chuckled and Harry felt a whirlwind of hate warm his core. How could he watch the last drop of life leave someone's eyes? Someone who used to be his friend?

Harry screamed, a hate filled cry that made his chest roar with a feeling akin to triumph, and with one hand closed, he punched Malfoy for all he was worth, punched him in the temple. He heard the faintest of cracks as his fist made impact with Malfoy's skull and felt the immediate stab of pain that accompanied it, a pain that seared all the way up his arm. Malfoy stumbled and fell, his eyes growing unfocused and finally, shut, his head tilting back against the grass. The other Death Eater, white mask still in place, turned in confusion, seeing nothing.

Harry suddenly panicked, what was he to do about the other one? He didn't hate him, he didn't even know him. He doubted very strongly he could muster the energy and the emotion to punch out the other Death Eater, besides, his right hand felt as though someone had taken a hammer to it. They stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime but was only seconds, Harry seeing a man in black and white, the man seeing nothing but the trees that surrounded him, heard nothing but the sound of Snape's wheezing and quickly fading breath.

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the white mask, couldn't force himself to hurt a man he didn't know, but couldn't let him stay, he would kill his professor. The solution was provided for him as a flash of green light, so fast he barely saw it slammed into the Death Eater, sending him flying with not so much as a grunt. Harry's gut twisted as he watched the man's body- no, corpse- hit the ground with a dull thud. His heart felt heavy as he watched, and yet, he knew it was the right thing to do, knew he couldn't have done it, but that it had to be done.

Harry felt himself pale as he turned slowly to his Professor. Snape had managed to lift himself up enough to point his wand but now he lay, deathly still against the swaying green grass that looked as black as the man's cloak in the moonlight. Harry swallowed thickly but hurried over to his teacher, ripping off his invisibility cloak as he bent over him.

"Professor Snape, can you hear me?" Harry called, afraid to touch the dying man in front of him. Now that he was closer, he noticed the pale, cold sheen of sweat that coated Snape's forehead, the slight tremble of his lips and the bright coat of red that flowed freely from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were closed and his chest rising very slowly, much too slowly.

"Professor? Professor! You have to wake up! Please, please, I-I don't know what to do." Harry panicked, his hands hovering above his Professor's chest, wanting to help but unsure how. Snape didn't answer and suddenly, his trembling lips stopped moving.

"No!" Harry shouted, and forced his hands down upon Snape's chest, right above the man's heart. It must have really hurt, Harry thought in wonder, as Snape twitched violently, his eyes snapping open in obvious pain.

"Ah, shit, s-sorry, Professor," Harry stuttered but didn't remove his hands from the left side of the man's chest.

"Potter… move…. your hand…" Snape's voice was but a whisper, very faint and caused more blood to flow from his mouth.

"No, you're falling unconscious. Where are you bleeding?" Harry persisted but at the grimace of unbearable pain that flashed over his teacher's face, he felt his heart turn cold and removed the pressure of his hand.

"Let me help you!" Harry pleaded desperately as more blood slowly trailed down the man's chin. Snape's eyes fluttered dangerously, black eyes bleak and dying.

"Shit," Harry muttered passionately and pushed the man's robes aside. He gasped, his eyes widening in horror as he peeled the man's cloak back with a sickening wet sound. Snape grunted but made no other noise. Harry stared at the deep gash on his Professor's side, deep enough that it had cut through flesh, muscle and bone, revealing pink organs Harry wasn't sure he could identify.

"Bloody hell, what do I do? Professor, please, please help me, or you're going to die." Harry felt wave after wave of panic at his complete and utter uselessness but forced his breathing to come slowly. His Professor was going to die if he didn't do _something._

"In…my cloak, Potter…vial…potion."Harry leaned in quickly to hear his teacher's words as they slurred out in a quiet, pain-filled whisper. Of course! The man was bound to have a potion in his robes. Harry quickly, but extremely gently prodded around in his Professor's robes until his fingers touched cool glass. He quickly pulled out three vials and didn't recognize any of them. Groaning his frustration, he moved them around in his hands, trying in vain to find a hint at what they were. Giving up, and feeling his panic rise to a point where his fingers shook relentlessly, he uncorked one and tilted the man's head back, trying to slip the bottle against his slowly drying lips.

"Come on professor, drink it!" Harry yelled his frustration and hysteria as Snape tossed his head away with surprising strength.

"Don't be so stubborn, sir! You need to drink the potion!" Harry cried and tried again but Snape was simply having none of it.

"No…" Snape groaned and tossed his head once again. "Wrong… one." Oh.

"Damn it, sir, I-I don't know, I can't remember what they are!" Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and shoved it hard against his teacher's side, trying to staunch the blood flow. Snape grunted roughly but otherwise made no protest.

"Try… again," Snape huffed quietly, his voice pained, eyes fluttering. Harry grabbed the vials in his shaking hands, held them up to the moonlight… and finally spotted the pain reliever. Relief washed over him in wave of soothing calmness as he uncorked the third vial and brought it up to Snape's pale lips. Harry didn't even cringe as his fingers weaved their way into the man's surprisingly none greasy hair so he could tilt his head back. Snape quickly complied and drank the potion down without a second thought. Snape's face immediately relaxed, the muscles that had tightened from pain around his eyes loosened.

"No, no, Professor, stay with me, how do I fix this?" Harry asked frantically as he gestured at the man's opened side.

"Incantation, Potter… _signum_" Snape's voice was no longer pain filled but quiet in his exhaustion and blood loss. Harry spun around, in desperate search of the wand he'd seen his Professor using. Fingers fumbling clumsily in the grass, he finally came upon sleek wood and the wand immediately sparked, causing Harry a slight smile. It was his own wand.

"Professor…?" Harry asked uncertainly as he gazed down at Snape's gushing wound, the blood soaking through the material faster than Harry was capable of dealing with. He positioned his wand against the wound but didn't know wand movement or correct pronunciation. Hell, he didn't even think flesh mending spells were in the sixth year curriculum.

"Wand… m-move in a line…d-d-down t-the wound," Snape's teeth began to chatter quietly in the still night. The only noise for miles. Frustration began to ebb into Harry's chest once again, a pressing hot weight that had the backs of his eyes stinging. Snape was losing too much blood; he didn't know what to do.

Harry pressed his wand tip gently to the edge of the messy wound, pulling the cloak back only far enough so he could see the extent of damage. Harry repressed a gag as so much meat filled his vision, so much blood that gleamed almost black in the dim light of night. His hands began to shake once again with this new responsibility; he needed to hurry if he wanted to save Snape's life.

"Signum," Harry whispered and began moving his wand down the wound, but nothing happened. Snape's form began to shake and shiver with relentless tremors. His teeth chattering louder still. The man never complained as he lay there, cold, bleeding, broken. Harry felt panic stirring once again so that he trembled, fear and frustration making his throat tight, his eyes sting with angry tears.

"It's not working!" Harry shouted, his frustration and feeling of uselessness getting to him, drowning out his saner thoughts, the ones telling him that if he were only to calm himself, it would move along quicker.

Snape said nothing, the only noise adorning the calm night was Harry's quiet, frustrated growls and Snape's gently chattering teeth. His teacher's body continued to twitch as Harry tried over and over, waving his wand, hurtling it in circles, trying to move down the wound in a clean, straight line…but nothing worked.

Snape's form suddenly began to still and amidst his feverish work, Harry realized the sound of the man's chattering teeth was no more. Snape was deathly still and cold to the touch.

_No, no, no, no… _Harry thought to himself desperately, tears of frustration leaking out of his eyes.

"No! Wake up, wake up, Snape!" Harry shook the body violently, he couldn't' help himself, panic settled in, full-blown hysteria. He leaned over the cold body and checked for a pulse feverishly, never truly resting in one spot long enough to feel a pulse. Giving up, Harry dropped his wand and grabbed his cloak, pushing it with vigour against the man's side and used his other hand to push against the man's chest. He tucked his knee up against Snape's side to hold the cloak so that he could have full use of both his hands. He started CPR, but clumsily, he had never truly practised.

Harry felt the sickening crunch and slick movement of the man's rib cage, noting that it had already been broken before Harry had gotten there.

"Please, _please_!" Harry whispered urgently, tears rolling down his cheeks as he felt his teacher's life seep away, unable to prevent it. He may have never liked Snape, in fact, he had hated him on many occasions but he was still a human being, still a teacher and had just saved Harry's life. No, Harry could not, would not let him die this way, not for him… not because of him.

Harry reached slow, trembling fingers up to the man's neck and cursed, a whine of exhaustion and utter defeat trembling form his lips, tears rolling freely down his face as the man's pulse faded, and finally stopped.

Severus Snape was dead.

**A-N: Alright first off : please don't hate me! lol, more to come soon ( I hope) thanks so much to everyone reviewing and those of you who are anonymous that I can't personaly send my thanks to. So, once agian, thanks for the reviews, they're very encouraging and very helpful, I hope to hear from you all again!**


	5. Help Me

**Hey guys, I want to clear something up before you read on. Some people have mentioned to me that they don't think Harry should have to return to his relatives home because he doesn't consider it home, therefore his saftey is not provided there. However, I disagree, because even in canon, J.K expresses quite clearly that because Harry has no other place to go, apart from Hogwarts for saftey, 4 Privat Drive is his only home, even though the boy has no emotional attachement. Therefore, the blood wards are still in effect and do, in fact, provide the protection needed. Just like in canon, Harry is to stay at his relatives until he is seventeen. Anywho, just to clear that up, hope you enjoy... **

Harry lay quietly in the dark, hands covered in blood that had not yet dried and silent tears still streaming gently down his cheeks.

His Professor was dead, and he, Harry, had failed him.f

Harry stared at the long dark figure of his teacher and felt his stomach churn, his injuries were horrific but Harry couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. If his Professor was willing to die for him, the least he could do was look at his broken body, unashamed.

"Help…" Harry whispered, more silent tears streaming in slow torrents down his face, dripping onto blood soaked hands. He knew it was pointless, the man, after all, was dead.

"Help me, please," Harry whispered once again, unable to stop the words tumbling form his lips. After several seconds of sitting, staring at the gruesome wreck that used to be a person, a teacher and a spy, Harry moved himself closer. Shifting to his knees, Harry grabbed the man under his arms and tried to lift him, he wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he couldn't' simply leave the body there. He didn't even know where he was. His Professor deserved better.

Snape weighed a little less than what he imagined, but was still pretty heavy. Harry managed, back bent, to drag his Professor through the grass, half of the man's torso raised but his legs and boots sliding noisily across the ground.

Harry was suddenly hit with wave after wave of pure guilt, only now realizing how much the man had suffered at Voldemort's hands, and he, Harry, hadn't been much help in easing his Professor's suffering what with being a pain in the arse all the time. Within all the building guilt, Harry dragged his Professor through the grass, still unsure where he was going in the middle of the night and felt the stirrings of anger. How could Dumbledore let him go through such things? How could he knowingly put Snape, his own teacher, in constant mortal danger?_ Probably the same way he forces me back to my Aunt's and Uncle's every year._ Harry thought bitterly to himself.

So immersed in his thoughts, Harry never noticed the minute twitching of Snape's fingers as they passed through the grass. Harry's thoughts drifted to Potions Class, on how he was so defiant, insulting and rude to his Professor. True, the man started it most of the time and Harry was normally unjustly accused and tormented, but why couldn't Harry have been the bigger person? Why couldn't he have simply ignored the man's jibes and insults and simply remembered, much the way Hermione was capable of, all the times he'd saved him, risked his life for him?

Suddenly, a dark blur reached up and grabbed Harry's arm. Fingers curled and dug into his flesh and Harry gasped, so frightened he dropped Snape to the ground. A small grunt escaped the man's lips and Harry stared, frozen in his surprise.

"P-Professor?" Harry knelt immediately, his knees hitting the ground with surprising speed, fast enough that pain shot up his legs. Snape never answered but Harry watched in silent wonder as the man's fingers continued to twitch at his sides. The boy quickly moved to his Professor's side and felt hope ignite in his chest like a warm beacon... Snape's eyes were fluttering.

"_Help_…" Harry whispered, still too stunned to find his voice. The man's eyes fluttered once again and Harry watched in utter amazement as the man's chest rose and fell achingly slow, but still moving.

"Help!" Harry cried, finally finding his voice as panic and a fierce relief washed over him, flushing his cheeks. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet. "Help! Somebody help me!" he screamed into the black night, he could see houses very faintly in the distance, perhaps someone was home?

Quickly kneeling back down, Harry lifted the invisibility cloak, still clinging to the man's side, and peered at the wound. The skin had sewn itself together. Harry had barely registered the small feeling of pride as he realized his inexperience hadn't not worked, it simply took more time.

However, his victory seemed to be short lived as something dark moved a couple meters in front of where Harry sat. He felt his heart freeze; Malfoy was awake. Harry scrambled for his wand but couldn't find it and realized he'd left it behind while he'd moved his Professor.

"What's the matter, Potter? Got no protection now, do you boy?" Malfoy sneered as he gained speed. Harry could barely make out a slow dripping substance that trailed down the man's skull but didn't have enough time to feel proud of his actions. Within a couple seconds, in which Harry had frozen upon indecision, Malfoy had grabbed his collar and pulled him into the air. Harry coughed as knuckles pushed against his windpipe, cutting off his air flow.

"You're going to come with me, boy." Harry blanched but balled his fists as his air became increasingly limited. His fingers wrapped around something cold and smooth and the boy soon came to realize he still had a potions vial in his hand. Just as he was about to uncork the bottle, the knuckles pushing into his throat became insistent, effectively cutting off all airflow. Sputtering, Harry brought his hands up upon instinct and tried to pry the hands away from his neck. He felt his head pounding, his lungs burning but he couldn't force Malfoy to let him go.

Something grabbed his ankle, suspended above ground, and he felt the familiar curl of Snape's fingers dig into his skin. Attempting to do what? He wasn't sure.

Snape watched, feeling useless as Harry was pulled into the air. His entire body felt numb and slow as if he'd been paralyzed. He knew it was blood loss and shock, knew he should probably be dead but couldn't waste the time to think upon it as Harry's legs kicked furiously, his breath slowly squeezed away.

Stupid boy! He had a wand for a reason! His eyes were hazy and his body weak and heavy but he felt no pain thanks to his pain reliever potion. This small mercy enabled him to think clearly, as he watched Harry struggle against his captor. Reaching out a bold hand, using probably the last of his energy, he latched onto the boy's ankle, his muscles screaming their protest, but he ignored them and began the switch…

Harry's mind suddenly cleared, all rising panic ceased as his lungs completely emptied of air and instead, he was left with an empty quietness in his mind that allowed him to think. Whatever Snape had done, Harry was thanking him desperately. He quickly made his decision and released the grip he had on Malfoy's hands to uncork the vial he had in his left grip. Without waiting, he flung the potion into Malfoy's eyes and the effect was instantaneous. Malfoy's grip slackened until he released the boy completely, screaming as the potion made contact with his eyes. The smell of burning flesh hung in the air but Harry was too busy taking in some much needed air. He turned to his Professor and saw that the man's eyes were open; in fact, they were wide open in panic and fear, emotions Harry had felt only seconds ago. That's when Harry realized the man's grip had not slackened form his ankle.

Harry quickly reached down, although his throat caused him a great deal of pain, and pried his teacher's hands from his leg. Slowly, the aftershock of pure panic and adrenaline caught him and his heart beat erratically, his breathing coming out in heaving gasps. Harry felt his calmness seeping away and panic settling in. He felt his eyes grow in fear as Snapes' closed until they were only half lidded with exhaustion. Once again, even on the brink of death, Snape had saved his life.

"What did you just do?" Harry asked in quiet wonder, his voice raspy and raw. Snape never answered him, instead, the man's head flopped to the side, blood loss taking over.

Faintly, he heard Malfoy rise, but was unsure he would be able to move, his body rooted to the floor from shock. Looking up, he watched the tall, black form of Lucius Malfoy hover over him.

"Never mind, I'll just kill you myself," The man spat, his voice poisonous, eyes and skin around them an angry red and pink. Harry's eyes widened. He had been so sure that, if nothing else, Malfoy would not kill him because he needed to be brought to Voldemort, but it seemed as though the man's pride and dignity had been bruised, forcing him to make irrational decisions.

"_Avada-"_ He only got so far before he froze, and for a moment, Harry thought Snape had saved his life, once again. However, one glance in the man's direction proved he was out for the count and Harry wondered in panic if he truly was dead this time.

"Lucius, I'm so disappointed in you." Came a voice the boy recognized from behind Malfoy, his body blocking the newcomer from view. Harry's stomached flipped.

Beside him, Snape's eyes fluttered as he tried to make out the figure through the black veil of night. His eyes were bleary and he barely registered that this was it; he needed blood that could not be found in the immediate area.

He was going to die.

He felt his heart sluggishly beating, his breathing constricted and he knew his ribs had quite possibly punctured a lung. Snape knew the wound on his side had been healed but the spell he had taught the boy didn't replenish blood, it only sealed the wound.

_Forgive me, Lily…_

Harry watched as ropes wrapped around Malfoy and he fell to the ground, revealing a man in purple sweeping robes, a long white beard, half moon spectacles and a pointy hat.

"My boy, my dear, dear boy," Dumbledore murmured as he advanced not towards Harry but towards Snape. Harry watched as the elder man knelt by Snape's broken body and registered that the man's eyes had finally closed, his fingers no longer twitching.

"Professor, he's dying, I need help, I-I-" Harry's voice was raspy and his throat constricted, forcing him to swallow painfully.

"Shh, my boy, Fawkes heard your cry for help; your Professor will be fine." Dumbledore watched Harry, his eyes twinkling slightly at the evident concern the boy held for his Potions Master. He quickly took a few seconds to note the boy's bleeding nose, his glasses off skew, his eyes tight with panic and his skin pale and sallow, not to mention his robes and hands covered in blood.

Shuffling about in his robes, Dumbledore produced a small vial and pulled his young teacher into his lap, propping the man's head up so he could tilt it back. Harry watched anxiously as Dumbledore coaxed Snape's mouth open, twisting his fingers in his lap nervously. Finally, Dumbledore had managed to pour the contents of the vial down the man's throat. The blood-replenishing potion took effect within seconds and soon Snape's cheeks coloured with a gentle pink tinge.

"Harry, why don't you tell me what happened?" Dumbledore asked as he stroked Snape's face fondly, pushing the man's hair behind his ear. Harry took a moment to appreciate that another human being would touch his Potions Master _fondly _but supposed it was a onetime thing; the man would surely have a fit were he awake.

"We managed to get out of the castle, but Voldemort was waiting for us. Snape –ah-- Professor Snape risked his life, that's where he got his injuries, and saved us, apparating us here. Um, Professor, where are we exactly?" Harry's voice was still raspy but grew stronger the more he used it.

Dumbledore looked up from his older charge to glance at his younger one. Before answering, he uncorked another potion and poured it down the man's throat. When Harry glanced at him curiously, he smiled tiredly at the boy. "It's a bone mending potion." The words echoed in Harry's head, Hermione had read to him about the potion once. All he remembered was that it was supposed to be painful. Not a second later, Snape's body twitched violently, a grunt sliding from the man's lips. Harry's heart squeezed as he watched the man wriggle in pain, he never thought he could empathize with Snape but at the moment, Snape was just another person in pain.

Dumbledore grasped his teacher by the shoulders and held him down. Harry noted the way Dumbledore's face creased with tiredness and pain at having to watch his teacher tormented so.

"That's my boy, that's my boy…" the Headmaster mumbled quietly as Snape finally began to calm, his body still twitching painfully.

"Do not fret so, Harry, he is unconscious," Dumbledore said upon glancing at Harry's pained expression. "He will remain unconscious for much longer, his injuries cannot be healed by potions alone, he needs time to rest," the Headmaster spoke more to himself than to Harry but glanced in the boy's direction, noting, once again, his awful appearance.

"Harry, is that blood yours?" Harry glanced down at his hands and robes and shook his head. He was so tired, tired of adrenaline, pain and panic, he just wanted to sleep. "It's Professor Snape's. I got it on me when I was trying to heal him."

"You did a wonderful job, Harry, the spell you performed was in next year's course and most must practise for months before accomplishing such a task." Dumbledore's words were warm and his eyes sparkled gently with pride but Harry was much too tired to feel proud himself.

"Professor, please, where are we?" Harry asked, his efyes drooping.

"Ah, don't you recognize it, Harry? It is, after all, your own neighbourhood." Harry scrunched his face in confusion, trying to make out his surroundings in the dark. Giving up, he looked back at the Headmaster, a question falling off his tongue.

"You see, Harry, Severus is a brilliant man, he really is," Dumbledore murmured quietly, once again stroking the man's face tenderly. He looked back up to Harry and sighed quietly, his eyes holding unshed tears. "So self sacrificing, this young one is, but don't ever tell him that, no," Dumbledore chuckled quietly, "your Professor would blow a gasket." Harry, for once, agreed without argument, he still didn't like Snape much but would never again argue with Dumbledore in relation to Snape's motives.

"Why do you think he apparated you here, of all places, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, laying his old, thin fingers over Snape's shoulders, kneading them gently, much the way a concerned parent would watch over their child.

"Sir, I don't even know where _here_ is." Harry looked around once again and finally, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing the faint outline of a playground. With a jolt, Harry finally recognized the park that stretched for miles in front of number 4 Private Drive. With a feeling akin to dread, Harry turned back slowly to the Headmaster and looked at him expectantly, awaiting an answer.

"Professor Snape, even though injured as you have mentioned, apparated you to a place where, if he were to fail you in any way, you would always be within distance of safety." Harry pondered Dumbledore's admission for a moment before letting his eyes slowly drift to Snape's slowly breathing form.

"So even though he knew he was," Harry gulped, "dying, he brought me somewhere where I'd find protection when he could no longer provide it?" Harry asked, his insides a lump of uneasiness.

Dumbledore nodded slowly and smiled tenderly at the young boy, begging him to realize just how much his Professor did care, no matter how much he proved otherwise. Harry's uneasiness was evident upon his features and Dumbledore sighed, knowing the boy felt trapped in a corner.

"I did not mention this to make you uncomfortable, Harry, I simply wish you to have a deeper understating of your Professor."

"He'd kill you if he knew you were saying any of this."

"Of that Harry, I have no doubt," Dumbledore chuckled and very carefully moved Snape from his lap and laid him gently on the soft grass.

"Now, Harry, I will accompany you to your relatives and you shall stay there for only a few days." He quickly held up a hand, seeing the boy about to protest. "I know this arrangement is far from ideal to you, but the castle is not safe enough for you at the moment. When all is cleared, you may return, but for the time being, I beg you stay with your Aunt and Uncle, the protection they offer, even for only two or three days will help keep you as safe as possible."

Harry glowered at the Headmaster, but inside, knew he was right. After everything Snape had done for him, he didn't think the man would appreciate him killing himself because he was too dense to stay with his relatives. Besides, it was only a day or two, right? Harry's heart sank just a little more.

"What about Professor Snape?"

Dumbledore sighed quietly and smiled at Harry when no more protest met his ears.

"He is also not to return to the castle, known as a traitor; I will not take any chances with his safety. He is to stay with you, Harry; I trust your Aunt and Uncle will aid you in any way necessary."

"What?" Harry spluttered, he wanted him to do what… exactly?

Dumbledore did not repeat himself, he knew the boy understood. "I will accompany you there, Harry, and I will explain to your relatives the predicament, but then I must leave and return to Hog--" Just as Dumbledore was about to finish his sentence, red flames crackled into the silent night, making Harry jump. Fawkes landed quickly on Dumbledore's shoulder, claws digging into the old man's cloaks, screeching with an intensity that made Harry's ears ache. Outwardly showing no pain, Dumbledore's face carefully constructed itself into an impassive wall, an expression that looked curiously like the one his Potions teacher wore.

"I'm so terribly sorry, my boy, it seems as though young Mr. Malfoy has been causing some trouble…"

"So you can't stay," Harry said bluntly, trying hard to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"I'm so very sorry, Harry, I will write you a note, please give it to your Aunt and no one else." Harry nodded and struggled to push down his disappointment and resentment. First Dumbledore wasn't there when they had all needed him, he was thrust into Snape's care –needless to say he wasn't impressed-, got captured by Voldemort, dealt with Snape's _almost_ death on his own and was finally being ordered to live with his horrid relatives AND bring Snape along? It was too much, too much to ask of him.

Seeing the dejection and accusation in Harry's eyes, Dumbledore felt his expression soften and his insides burn with guilt although he knew he could not dawdle with the boy, he must return to the castle. He leant down and captured the boys chin, trying to pull his eyes up to meet his, but Harry shrugged off the hand.

"I'm terribly sorry, my boy, to have thrown you into such a position, but your family will understand. They are your safeguard."

"Right," The boy chewed out between gritted teeth. Dumbledore was aware Harry was not very fond of his time spent at home but it couldn't be helped, Severus needed a place to stay that was safe and he could think of no safer place then behind the blood wards with Harry.

"I must be off," Dumbledore said regretfully, completely acknowledging and understand Harry's hidden look of hurt. "I have placed a spell upon you Harry, seeing as Severus is without a wand, this spell will enable you to perform basic level spells in order to help aid your Professor. However, Harry, this is not to be abused, do you understand?"

Harry nodded his head meekly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle and could find no alternative. "Now, my boy, I will contact you after two days time, just to be sure, and will give you further instructions, hopefully our Potions Master will be, in any circumstance, in better health."

"How am I supposed to heal him? I don't know very many healing spells." Harry let his eyes wander in the darkness until they fell upon Snape's pale face, gleaming silver in the moonlight.

"Hasn't Miss Granger given you a book on first aid for your sixteenth birthday?" Harry's attention snapped back to the Headmaster and he nodded, remembering.

"I haven't brought it with me."

"That can be easily remedied, my dear boy." Dumbledore produced from his robes a large rectangular book and handed it to the boy.

"How, what—Where did you get that?" Harry stuttered, unable to comprehend the sudden appearance of his birthday gift.

"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, Harry." Dumbledore winked at him and turned to leave when Harry called out to him one last time. "Is everyone at Hogwarts alright?" Harry asked, his face suddenly growing pale in the darkness. He couldn't believe he hadn't even thought of it until then. Ron, Hermione, Neville… Ginny. Admits his panic, fear and desperation he had completely forgotten about the castle and its occupancies.

"There have been no serious injuries, Harry, but if I do not return quickly, there may be." Harry nodded his head in understanding, and watched as Fawkes erupted into flames, the fire engulfing the Headmaster, and when the bright burning light died, he was gone.

Harry curled his fists and felt something crinkle within them. Opening his hand, Harry found a square piece of parchment. It was the note Dumbledore had said to give his Aunt, but upon opening it, Harry found it to be blank. Understanding that the note would not reveal its contents until given to his Aunt, Harry growled his frustration at Dumbledore and quickly pocketed the note.

No, his relatives would not understand his predicament, they would never allow Snape into their house and they most certainly would not help him heal his Professor. There was absolutely no point in even showing them the note, in fact, they were most likely to kick his arse out as soon as he knocked on the door, having thought they would be rid of him come the start of term. Harry groaned aloud into the night and wracked his hands through his hair, tugging on the loose ends.

Harry stared at Snape's limp form and felt an overwhelming urge to blame the man, if he wasn't such a git, maybe the entire situation could have been avoided. Even as he thought it, his anger ebbed away and he felt ashamed, not to mention confused at his own statement, he knew Snape being an arse hole had nothing to do with the predicament they had found themselves in. Knowing it was not Snape that deserved his anger but rather Voldemort, even Dumbledore, Harry directed his anger towards a tufted of grass as he kicked it petulantly.

Heaving a sigh, Harry quickly retrieved his wand and pointed it at his invisibility cloak, muttering a cleansing spell and watched as the dried and caked on blood removed itself. Harry quickly knelt by his Professor and stretched the fabric of his cloak until it reached the length of his teacher, effectively cutting him from view. Muttering an incantation, Snape was suddenly air bourn. Harry could see under the cloak, made sure the man had risen properly and began to walk with Snape in tow, book under his arm, thinking furiously.

What was he going to do? For two days he had to find a way to hide Snape, he could always use the invisibility cloak but what happened when the man awoke? He would never listen to Harry; he would never willingly but on the cloak and hide himself so he, Harry, wouldn't get punished. Groaning again, Harry began the slow trudge through the grass, he had no idea what time it was, it could be midnight like it could have been three in the morning, there was no possible way he could simply bang on the door and ask to stay for the night. Harry snorted; a sudden vision of his Uncle slamming the door in his face came to mind.

Harry felt the grass brush against his legs, the cool wind playing with his unruly hair but he could not relax. What was he supposed to do? He could always sleep outside, but he knew his Professor needed warmth if he were to remain stable. As Harry walked past the playground he stopped a moment, relishing in some pleasant and some less than happy memories of the palace. He liked to escape there when he was alone but it was also the place of origin to Dudley's famous Harry Hunting. Sighing, Harry continued towards number 4 Privet Drive, his heart heavy and his hopes crushed into the dirt.

Harry finally reached the end of the grass and walked across the paved street, halting when he was standing at the foot of his driveway. Harry kicked a couple of stones aggressively, hating Dumbledore with a passion before walking up to the front door.

Harry reached beside him, felt cloth between his fingers and sighed, how in hell was he supposed to get Snape inside? An idea struck the young boy and Harry suddenly grinned, feeling a little high. Doing something deemed 'illegal' by his relatives was always a small and welcome revenge. Harry quickly walked around the length of the house until he was in the backyard where he gently laid Snape on the ground. Turning around, Harry made his way back to the front door and lifted his wand to the lock.

"_Alohomora_," Harry whispered and the door creaked as it opened. Harry figured he'd stay the night, keep Snape under the cloak and under some blankets then get the hell out in the morning. He'd come back in when the Dursley's woke up and try to explain his predicament, if they didn't like it, he'd sneak back in at night.

Sure of himself, Harry crept up the stairs silently, years of practice teaching him which steps would creak and which were safe. Harry also felt confident that he would get no beatings, many insults, but no injuries during his stay, the Dursley's didn't usually touch him a couple of days before he went back to school for fear of being caught. They left marks only where no one could see and they tended to fade before term started, but still ached, oh yes, his relatives enjoyed causing him pain that lasted were no mark could be seen. Nope, his Uncle wouldn't risk hurting him with only two days before he returned to Hogwarts. The thought almost made Harry giddy.

His triumph was only short lived though, as Harry reached the second landing, for he remembered Snape. If the man awoke, and heard all the things his Uncle was bound to say to him… the boy's cheeks reddened just thinking about it.

Pushing the thought aside, acknowledging that he could not change the situation, Harry opened his door silently, glad the door hadn't been relocked when he left, and closed the door just as quietly as he had come in. Hurrying over to his window, Harry quickly tapped his wand against the metal bars and they popped off silently, hovering just outside his window. Harry quickly reached out and pulled the bars in, settling the metal against his dresser. Harry stretched his head and shoulders out the window, looking down at his backyard. Harry spotted the large rock he had placed next to his Professor in order to find him once he got to his room and quickly aimed his wand in the man's general direction.

"_Mobilicorpus_," Harry whispered and the boy held his hand out, fingers spread wide. Harry felt something bump his hand and he felt cloth. Grabbing what he hoped was his Professor's arm, Harry quickly, but gently, pulled him into his room where he took off the invisibility cloak. Relief washed over Harry as he realized Snape was still heavily unconscious but faring well, his cheeks as healthy as sallow ever got.

Harry pulled his teacher over, still airborne, and laid him gently on his mattress. He looked over his Professor for a minute and realized how non-threatening the man looked when not holding himself stiff, scowling or otherwise sneering at people. With his intense marble eyes closed, Snape seemed almost, just almost…relaxed. With that last thought, and how the Potions Master would surely throttle him if he awoke to find his student staring, he replaced the cloak over his Professor and he vanished from sight.

Harry slumped against his bed, setting his book on the ground and let his backside hit the floor as he yawned. He was so tried, and once all emotion was finished wrecking havoc on his system, he began to feel the gentle throb of his nose. It wasn't broken, he didn't think, but it hurt now that he wasn't thinking about anything else. Harry looked down gently at his blood-coated hands and robes but couldn't find the energy to get up and change. Grabbing a blanket that lay against his side, he threw it over his head and heard it hit Snape's form. He considered just leaving it there but felt guilty within a few seconds. Even if the man would never appreciate it, Harry should show him more respect, he had, after all, saved his life twice that night.

Mustering up some of his last reserves of strength, Harry brought himself to his knees and removed the invisibility cloak, switching it for the wool blanket, then replaced the cloak overtop of his teacher, hoping it would be warm enough for the night. Harry flopped back down on his backside and found another blanket, not as warm and not wool, but a thin sheet material. He pulled it onto him and gasped as more pain seared down his arm, remembering what he'd done to Malfoy, Harry smiled slightly, happy to have been of some use and let his head fall against the edge of his mattress. His eyes heavy and his mind burdened with too many thoughts, too many scenes of gory flesh, puddles of blood and worried, pain filled black eyes. Not too soon after Harry's mind began to wander, the boy fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

**A-N: Alright guys, hope you enjoyed. Thanks once again to each and every person that's been reviweing, I appreciate it and find the crustructive criticsm very helpful while still being very polite. Once again, thanks so much for your encouragment, it's greatly appreciated. **


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